The Drabble Series
by diva.gonzo
Summary: Various Canon characters, whether together or not, written originally for the HP Humpdrabble Fest on LJ. Various pairings, not all canon compliant, and was fun to write. Ch. 4 onward rated M. Ch. 17 - Luna& Dean; Ch. 16 - Romione; Ch. 14 and 15- Charlie W/Mystery Woman; Ch. 13 - Romione; Ch 12 - Hermione/Ginny; Ch 11 - Romione; This is an on-going series.
1. Another Night - Ted & Andromeda

**Another Night (Ted/Andromeda)**

* * *

_**Disclaimer: No - I am not JK Rowling - I'm not her publisher, and if I were making her money, I'd have a roaring fire going right now. No copyright infringement intended, and if anyone asked, they'd get a tin of biscuits and thanks for reading this. - DG**_

* * *

Theodore Tonks stood at the door to his home, feeling the flutter in his stomach. He had been married years, chasing and catching the love of his life, and tonight, he was going to break her heart, possibly for the last time. The flowers would say I'm sorry once she looked closer at them.

He adjusted his jacket, looking at the knocker on the front door to their modest cottage outside of Cardiff. Moonlight from the full moon shown down on their door, showing the placard on the front door: Riverstone, residence of the Tonks – Ted and Andromeda.

The day she declared she was going to marry Ted – and not succumbing to the arranged marriage her parents insisted she go through – was the day she was kicked from her home, disowned from the family she wasn't fond of, denigrated from the sibling she couldn't stand, and given a cold shoulder from the sister she loved most of all.

From those hard months - eloping to a small chapel in Blackpool, married in secret by a Bishop late at night, to finding out months later that she was pregnant, and the only family she could tell was her baby sister, who wrote back admonishing her for betraying her family - came a love that endured so much heartache. Now, thirty years later, he was going to leave her heartbroken tonight. _p_

_Blast the Ministry for imposing the Muggle registration laws. Marriage trumps pureblood mania, the sods. Blast them for passing this one. _

He tipped his wand to open the lock on the front door. He stepped past the threshold, smelling of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. He loved how home smelled. It was warmth, of love, and indulgence in baked goodies, courtesy of his wife who had to learn the domestic side of life when she was kicked out of her own family.

Ted hung his jacked on the hat rack behind the door, keeping the flowers fresh for her. It wasn't her birthday or their anniversary, but it was sure to be memorable nonetheless. He stepped into the kitchen, and there stood his wife of 30 years, looking like a rose in full bloom. She was of taller than average height, her mouse brown hair gently waving while she worked in the kitchen. Her posture was strong, and her carriage was refined, in public or in their kitchen. Age and childbirth had spread out her hips, and she had gray in her hair from raising Dora – but everything else about her was high-born pureblood lineage.

Andromeda Black Tonks turned around, and smiled at her husband. She was wearing her summer dress, yellow with blues and browns and green, looking like she stepped out at a masquerade ball. The look was ruined by the apron she wore, puce green covered with splotches of white.

Ted stepped up, putting the bouquet of flowers in the vase on their modest table, preferring the scent of his wife's hair. She was home, and had been his amortentia since their class with Slughorn years past. She threaded her hands through his, feeling the strength in them while he peppered her face with small kisses.

"Flowers for me, love? What is the special occasion?"

"Well, a seller on the corner in Whitehall was going to throw them away, so I paid two pounds for them to bring to you. I know you like lilies and orchids."

She smelled them, finding the flowers a nice surprise. She turned to her husband, looking tired after a long day at the ministry. "Long day dear?" she asked quietly from the stove.

He stepped up behind her, threading his arms around hers, crushing her to his taller frame. "I just had a bad day at the office, and in need of my wife's love and cooking."

Andromeda turned around to her husband, seeing the sadness in his eyes. "What's wrong Ted? I've not seen you this down since the day following the return of You-know-Who at the Ministry two years ago."

Ted caressed his wife's face, looking at the soft wrinkles at her eyes, the laugh lines around her mouth, and the smattering of grey in her hair. She might look similar to her sisters, but the years had been considerably more kind to his wife, even if they weren't as wealthy or socially connected as the rest of her sisters.

"Ted, please, talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking."

He pulled her closer, catching a whiff of his wife's delicate perfume – one that he bought for her on their last trip to the Continent, stopping in Paris for a weekend. He found the smell enticing, nuzzling her ear with his nose, making goose pimples on her skin.

Andromeda stepped back, looking up at her husband's grey eyes. She searched his face, trying to find clues to his strange behavior. Quiet Ted was the one that scared her the most – when he wouldn't rant or rave or complain about his job at the ministry. Ted not talking about politics, or schemes at the ministry was frightening. But she was also well-bred and a higher standard – she never faltered.

She stepped closer, finding the look in his face that told her what he needed – he needed love, attention, affection, and solace. Andromeda looked up at her husband, her paramour, and threaded her hands into his own. A gentle squeeze and she was pulling him to their bedroom, and away from the troubles of the day.

They closed the door – a long held habit for having a precocious daughter who was preternaturally clumsy – and looked at one another. Seconds passed, and he was still silent. She stepped back, pulling the wand from her apron, and lit the candles in their room, giving some illumination.

"You look so tired, love. Let's lie down and let me comfort you tonight."

He smiled, looking bereft. "You always comfort me, if only for a night."

She smiled. "You say that every night, Ted."

"I know – and yet I wake up and there you are, snoring lightly next to me in our bed."

"We made this bed, didn't we?"

"We did - so let's go lie in it."

She kissed him, pulling him into her on the bed.

"Another night, Ted?"

"You're the one who would run back to your family."

She kissed him tenderly, the years turning from lust to love to affection to comfort to appreciation. "And 30 years of nights, feeling like a million, and yet here we are, staying another night."

He kissed her back, feeling the bones of the corset under her dress, supporting her ample bosom under the linen of her dress. He ran his hand down her side, feeling the curves and softness that the years afforded. He worked his hand down to her hip, squeezing harder than he had in years. She brought her leg to tangle in his own, feeling the bones on his hips among other places.

He broke the kiss, looking down at his wife snuggled into the bedclothes. She smiled, and pulled him back to her, turning the soft kisses frantic, passionate like they had when they were newly married.

"Please, Ted, make love to me."

He gave her another searing kiss, leaving her breathless. "My lady's wish is my pleasure."

* * *

Andromeda was chilled, having fallen asleep earlier without putting on any other attire. She rolled over in their bed, finding Ted's side cold. She opened her eyes, and found only his pillow. On his pillow was a note, in his flowing handwriting.

_Dearest Andy, _

_By the morrow, you will get the morning Daily Prophet and see the terrible news. I couldn't stand inflicting that torment on you – so I left. I love you dearly, but I won't see the sods pester you for the choices we made. In the vase are Forget –Me-Nots, charmed to stay fresh until I return. I will return when Harry changes the world. Stay strong my love, and keep the hearth burning for me. p_

_Love,_

_Ted_


	2. A Moment of Solace - Neville&Ginny

**A Moment of Solace - (Neville/Ginny)**

* * *

Ginny turned the corner, running as fast as she could. She hadn't anticipated needing an escort from the Prefect's bath this late at night. She had run into Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, along with a few other Slytherin girls, on her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

She knew she was bleeding. She could feel the blood running down the side of her face. A badly performed cutting curse by one of the younger girls had slipped under her shield charm, nicking her above the eyebrow. She had been able to disarm Pansy and stun Daphne before running away.

She was thankful that she was in decent shape – even on her shorter legs, she was outdistancing her attackers; turning every corner she could to put distance between her and them. Their taunts chased her as fast as she could run, echoing in her ears.

_Blood traitor! _

_Whore! _

_Family's been a stain on the Wizarding world for far too long. You'll get what's coming to you shortly, soon as the Dark Lord kills Potter. _

Ginny turned another corner and crashed into Neville Longbottom. Her momentum threw them onto the stone floor, crashing into one of the knights stationed in the hallway outside the Great Hall.

"Ginny! Why are you running?"

"Got ambushed!" she panted, "Barely got away."

He looked at her face, seeing the blood on her temple. "I'll handle it."

He stood up, pulling his wand from his pocket. Second later, the girls turned the corner and came face to face.

"Well, lookie here; if it isn't the Great Protector Neville Longbottom. Stand aside while we deal with her."

Neville stood his ground, keeping his wand pointed at the other girls. Ginny moved to his left side, slightly behind him, with her wand drawn.

"No. There's enough going on without you adding to it. Walk away, Pansy."

"We'll mention this to the Headmaster."

Neville scowled. "Go ahead. What's another detention to me?"

The girls looked at him, seeing him as the man he had become for the first time.

"Fine. But this isn't the end of it, Weasley. Potter isn't here and Neville can't watch you forever."

Neville stood his ground while the four girls turned heel and walked away. He waited, hoping they wouldn't come back. He didn't want to raise his wand in anger at another student unless necessary.

"Neville?"

He turned, looking down at his best friend. Her face was a mess, but her eyes showed a fire he had come to love and appreciate. She was his first date, and his first kiss, many years ago. Her smile warmed his heart, even if she was madly in love with another man.

"Can we get in the Common room? I don't like it out here right now."

He blinked, coming back to his senses. "Oh, sure yeah. Let's get in there."

They climbed walked to the main stairwell, climbing the steps to the Gryffindor tower entrance. Neville stood back while Ginny went to the portrait leading to the Gryffindor tower, letting her give the password. He didn't trust Slytherines not to watch and see about another ambush. There had been too many other Gryffindor students attacked in the last week, and he had grown to distrust any of the other professors. He knew they were being watched and had their own problems to deal with. Slughorn was the worst, sending students not of his house to the Headmaster for the most trifling infractions. The same went with most of the others, save Flitwick and McGonagall.

He watched the portrait open, admitting them into the tunnel to the Common room. He took two steps inside the hall and was pushed into the wall as the door closed. Lips were instantly on his and small hands squeezed his larger ones hard.

_Blimey! _

Neville lost all relevant thought after that, falling into it with testosterone filled lust. His hands threaded into her long flowing locks, keeping her close on him. Their second kiss was nothing like the first one he had with her those many years ago. There was fire behind this one and considerable skill. Neville had never kissed anyone other than Ginny Weasley, and never kissed her like this the night of the Yule Ball. This kiss was the stuff of fantasies, waking and sleeping.

Ginny pulled back from the kiss, her lips swollen from the passionate kiss. She looked up at him and saw confusion in his eyes.

She rubbed a finger over his lips, feeling the softness of them. "You saved me."

Neville blushed. "If you say so," he whispered.

"You did."

Ginny leaned back in to kiss him once more, pulling down his head and running her nails across his scalp. He tried to pull back further but got nowhere.

_Sigh. _

He tried again, being a little more forceful. This time it worked and he saw her looking up at him in confusion this time. "Ginny, what is it?"

"Neville, I'm scared."

"I know. Me, too. But why are you kissing me?"

Ginny tried to answer, but couldn't say anything. She looked away in mortification.

Neville turned her head back and looked at his best friend, one of the best people he'd come to know at school. "I love you and have for years. But I know you're not in love with me. I've seen you look at him and I see how you look away from the rest of us. So what gives?"

"I've not heard from them in months and no one knows if they are alive."

"Rubbish, Ginny. You'd know if anything happened. Those sods at the Ministry would plaster it all over England."

"Would they?" he heard her whisper. "Wouldn't they just bury it and start making things worse for everyone?"

Short arms tightened around his waist and his shirt was slowly growing wet. He knew she was at her wit's end, since she never cried. He knew Ginny well enough that she only trusted a few people to show her weakness. Neville felt honored that she could show this side to him.

He felt her shaking and knew it was growing worse. "Shhhh. I got you. Nothing's going to happen. I won't let it."

Ginny pulled back, looking at him through her emotionally overwrought features. _She's beautiful._

"Take me upstairs."

"No," he whispered, wondering if he would regret his choice. "That isn't what you really want. You're upset and I'm not going to take advantage of you. I care too much to do that to you."

"But Neville…"

Neville looked at her forlorn and bereft features, seeing the fear deeply hidden in her caramel eyes.

"I will probably regret it, but no. You love Harry and you're not in love with me. You would regret the moment of solace we would have. I love you too much to do that to you."

Ginny looked at him, seeing his resolve harden. She nodded, and leaned back in for another hug.

"Thank you," she whispered into his damp shirt.

Neville pulled her closer, walking slowly into the common room. He settled into the couch with Ginny snuggled up next to him. Within moments, she was fast asleep. He soon followed.

* * *

Neville blinked, finding himself back at his desk in the classroom. The Auror Academy was his path for now, helping Ron and Harry hunt down the remaining Death Eaters. He jumped at the chance that the Minister offered and felt the need to continue what he started at Hogwarts.

"Neville, are you alright? You look a bit flushed."

Neville looked to his right, seeing Harry sitting next to him taking a break from reading the Investigational Protocols manual in front of him.

"Sorry Harry. I just had a daydream." He flushed further in embarrassment. "It was about Ginny during the year you were gone."

Harry nodded in understanding. "There's nothing to be sorry about Neville. You protected her when no one else would and you are one of her best friends. She told me everything. I understand."

Neville tried to dislodge the bezoar from his throat and found it difficult to do so. "Thanks Harry."


	3. Scars - Ginny&Luna

**Scars - Ginny/Luna (with appearances by Lavender and Pavarti)**

* * *

Ginny limped into her dorm room. It was quiet – too quiet. Then again, this year, there was the wrong kind of noise – frustration, tears, screaming. That didn't include the other students in the tower, or the others in her dorm.

She stopped at the foot of her bed, wincing from the lash marks that branded her bum. The Carrows were not merciful in detention. The more they tried to break her, the harder she would dig in. If Riddle couldn't break her those terrible years ago, these pathetic excuses for wizards and witches certainly wouldn't.

_It was worth it, calling them out for their stupidity. Fuckin' cowards._

"Ginny," said a sleepy soft voice from her bed.

She looked up and smiled. Luna pulled back the curtains on the bed and twisted around to kneel on the edge of it. She was wearing a peach colored camisole and garish green knickers.

"Why were you asleep in my bed? It's that I'm not that I'm glad to see you, but shouldn't you be in the other tower?"

Luna smiled wistfully. "Lavender mentioned at dinner that you had detention tonight for giving cheek to Amycus in Dark Arts today. We know he is brutal in disciplining students."

Ginny tried and failed to hide the wince. "He laid into me with the crop."

"Did you see Madame Pomfrey for assistance?"

"He yelled that blood traitors don't get treatment like honorable purebloods receive."

"Is that Ginny?" came a soft voice across the room.

"She's finally back," answered Luna quietly.

Pavarti and Lavender came over to the diminutive witch, seeing the anger etched on her face. "How bad do you hurt?"

"Bad enough I wish I could see Poppy tonight." Ginny winced from shifting on the edge of the bed.

"We've got supplies. Poppy said we could help."

Ginny stood there without moving. "I –"

Luna's smile hardened. "I'll help too. But Pavarti is better at healing charms than I am. I could do them, but I'd probably leave you scarred. But you need the potions and crèmes otherwise you won't be able to sleep."

Ginny sighed. She knew she couldn't argue logic with Luna. Only Hermione could do that.

"Alright, I'll manage. I'd rather not run into anyone tonight outside the tower. One whipping a night is bad enough." Ginny sighed and kicked off her trainers. "Let's get this over with. I won't mind the scars."

She turned around and sat on the edge of the bed, cringing from the pain, and slid off her cardigan, leaving her in her white blouse and uniform trousers.

"Off. I need to see skin to do any healing charms," said Pavarti quietly. "I'm pants otherwise at it."

Ginny looked at the other three girls, fighting the chagrin on her face.

"Hush. It's not like we've not seen you in your knickers," intoned Lavender. "You need us tonight, whether you want us or not."

"Fine," she retorted quietly. Ginny bent over to shed her uniform slacks as well, leaving her in her dress shirt and her green knickers.

Luna blanched. "Oh I hope he didn't see you in those?"

Ginny pulled the dress shirt over her head, tossing it into the corner with the rest of her clothes. "No, he was too busy enjoying whipping me through the clothes. He left me in the pants and my blouse – but made me take off the jumper and lift my shirt. The lashes hurt enough through them."

Ginny stood in her undergarments, looking down at her scarred body while fighting the urge to hide.

Luna put her hands out, pulling Ginny's hands into hers. "There's no need to hide from us. We've seen you and know you're beautiful."

"Besides," chirped Lavender behind her, "you've got more bollocks than those freaks teaching us."

Ginny stepped forward, feeling delicate hands on her hips. She winced at a touch. "How bad does it look?"

Luna pulled Ginny up to her, letting the other two girls evaluate her contusions. "Oh Ginny, he was cruel tonight," choked out Lavender. "You look terrible. Your back, hips, and arse look like you fell off your broom. Why didn't you mention all of these other bruises?"

She grimaced from the touch on her flayed skin – Pavarti was touching the raw skin on her back where the crop bit through the material. Ginny glanced down at Luna, who was looking right at her with those immensely big blue eyes. Luna nodded, waiting for her reply.

"I didn't want you to worry about me. We all have enough on our plate as it is."

Luna nodded, seeing the other two girls mimic her answer. A soft squeeze of her hands and a half smile were all she would give back to Ginny.

"I can heal the mild ones, but if I try the worst ones, I'll leave you with scars. Are you sure you want that?"

"Just do it. I don't mind scars. Harry's got enough already."

Ginny winced at the first charm on the least injured lash. "Did I hurt you?"

"It stings a bit, that's all."

"Do you want a pain potion?"

"Eventually."

Ginny tried to turn around, but Luna held her still. Ginny tried to turn around, but felt hands on her hips holding her in place. "Don't move; she's not finished healing the rest."

"I – "

Luna squeezed her hands lightly. "Hush and let her work. We'll talk once she'd done."

Pavarti worked quickly, healing each lash. Ginny winced after each one while Lavender applied crème after she was done sealing the wounds. They worked well as a team.

"Two last charms," Pavarti whispered. "Luna, hold her steady. These are the worst, and will hurt."

Ginny stood rigid in front of Luna, watching her put her hands on her ribcage. She quivered from the soft hands along her ribs, two sets holding her steady. They were different from the last set of hands, calloused and rougher. She missed those hands terribly.

They heard the incantation, and Ginny growled, "Merlin's Bollocks, that hurt!" Pavarti did the last charm, and it was the worst pain she felt. She screamed, tears flooding her face in pain and anger.

Luna sat up on her knees, wiping the tears from her friend's face. "Shhhh. She's done. Just the paste left. It's Ok." Ginny wept while Lavender continued to apply crème to the last two welts on her back. Luna heard her muttered deprecations and epithets, mostly at herself for being "so bloody stupid."

"We've done what we could tonight, and the pain potion will help you sleep. But you should see Madame Pomfrey in the morning before class. Those last few will need to be looked at just to make sure."

Lavender handed the jar back to Pavarti who sealed it. Lavender handed over the vial of pain potion to Luna. "Give that vial to her so she can sleep tonight. Those bruises will hurt otherwise."

Luna nodded while Ginny continued to sob quietly. The other two Gryffindors watched for moments before turning to their own corner of the dorm. Luna held Ginny while she continued to weep, rubbing her back gently. Ginny shivered from the delicate touch on her tender skin.

"They're done. You're OK." Luna pulled her friend back from her embrace. "What are you thinking, Ginny?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"I will."

Ginny reached down and caressed Luna's face, feeling the contrast to the face she last kissed. The differences were strange: no stubble from shaving, and less lines on such a young face. She leaned into the other face, giving a gentle kiss. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Oh that was nice. I've not kissed anyone like that before."

Luna pulled her friend back, reciprocating the action. Her hands were on Ginny's knicker-clad hips and her fingers were tickling the delicate hairs there. Harry had touched her like this, one afternoon a week before Dumbledore died. His lips on her satin covered breasts along with his hands on her bum evoked similar feelings she was experiencing now. Each touch on her skin was fire, memories she tried to banish.

Luna tasted salty tears mingling in their kiss. "You miss him so much," Luna whispered. "You miss your brother and best friend too."

Ginny opened her watery eyes and saw Luna's wisdom. "How did you know?"

"Friends help friends," Luna nodded. "You kiss nice, but I'm not who you need. You welcome solace right now, and if that means sleeping in your bed tonight, holding you while you're crying, I don't mind a bit."

"Luna?"

"Yes Ginny?"

"Can I please put some pyjamas on?"

"Sure," Luna blinked. "I forget that some people are uncomfortable in bare skin around me. I find it refreshing standing up on Stoatshead Hill behind the house wearing nothing but my skin."

Ginny stepped away, and opened the dresser. She frantically wanted to hide the blush on her cheeks and chest. She didn't mind the tears that were still cascading down her face.

She rummaged inside the drawers for something to wear. Under the new garments were Harry's old Quidditch practice shirt and a pair of his boxers. She grabbed both, along with one of his too-small jumpers. She needed to feel safe tonight.

She glanced around to see that no one was watching, and slid out of her knickers. The elastic on her back was already uncomfortable, and sleeping in it on her barely healed contusions would make things worse. Tears were still falling, but the physical pain wasn't the worst.

Over her hips went the boxers, then the flannel sleep trousers over the boxers. She then shrugged out of her bra, and put on his practice jersey and old jumper.

Ginny turned, and stepped back to her bed. Luna was sitting on the duvet, watching her with her ice blue eyes.

"You sure you want to stay here tonight?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'm here, aren't I? I'll stay and keep you company. You need someone tonight."

Luna handed her the vial of potion. Ginny nodded silently. Only Luna knew her as well as Hermione. Ginny took the measure, tipping it down her throat. "Disgusting."

"Disgusting, but it works well. Maybe my company as your friend will help too."

"You don't mind?"

Luna pulled back the duvet on the crimson and gold bedclothes. "I wouldn't offer to sleep in your lumpy bed with you if I did mind, now would I?"

Ginny shrugged before crawling under the covers and snuggling into Luna's welcoming arms. "I snore, just so you know."

"That's nice." Luna looked at her with those big blue eyes. "I sleepwalk."

Ginny looked at her friend sharing a pillow with her. "Thank you for staying tonight."

"You're my friend. I'd be nowhere else tonight."

Ginny settled into the pillow, falling asleep immediately.


	4. Breaking Rules - Ron&Hermione

**Breaking Rules – Ron/Hermione**

* * *

Hermione stood at the place in the bleachers, watching the teams warm up for the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor match. Hermione chose to patrol on match days, letting the prefects enjoy a day of fun. She willingly took the patrol duty on match days, since she didn't like Quidditch now since Ron and Harry weren't students this year. She didn't mind the least, since she had a surprise waiting under the stands today.

Harry was patrolling up in the stands, but her King was down below, waiting for her. Game days were the only day that outsiders were permitted on the grounds. McGonagall was very specific about that, since the Board of Governors were still concerned about the prospects of the few remaining Death Eaters on the loose. Who better to protect the students than one of the Heroes of Hogwarts?

Hermione shook her head, hearing the roar of the crowd above her as she made her way down the steps to the grounds around her. She wasn't concerned, since the staff had verified all visitors on campus today. Aurors were on the grounds, Hagrid manned the front gate for all of the visitors, and each person was verified through a complicated set of questions devised by the Headmaster and her deputy.

Today was also the day that she was going to celebrate Ron's birthday. It was almost three weeks late, but today was also the March Equinox, and in her letter to him for his birthday, she offered to fulfill one of his fantasies. The catch was doing such during the Quidditch match – one of which Ginny promised to make sure took longer than five minutes. She delivered – the match was going into the third hour, and it was time for another round of the premises.

She lit her wand, braving the last few stairs of the stadium, and knew he was waiting below. Her King, her hero, her best friend was at the bottom of the stairs with a grin plastered on his face. He reached his hand out, taking hers in his own. "Ready?"

Hermione smiled. Ron had been on duty until now, patrolling the grounds during the match. They had their own duty, but now was time for some pleasant company.

They stepped out, holding hands and wands at the ready. "Where are we going?"

"The one place you've not patrolled today. It's the one place I'd hide if given the chance."

She followed his lead, working their way around the side of the stadium, finding the barely noticed door to the inside of the stadium. "Ron, we can't go in there. It's the Gryffindor locker room."

He looked down at her barely tamed hair, the flush on her chilled cheeks, and the pale lips he loved to snog. "It's where I'd hide. Come on."

He pulled her into the room, sliding the latch into place. Ron quickly glanced around the room, seeing no one. "Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"I am. It's your birthday present from me. I planned it, remember?"

"Wicked!" he growled before pulling her into his embrace, finding her lips more than ready for him. p\

Ron walked them back to a bench, blindly sitting down on it. He pulled Hermione down with him, settling her onto his lap while snogging her fiercely. "So long," he moaned while laying frantic kisses down her neck.

Hermione threaded her hands through his hair, dragging her ink stained nails across his scalp. He growled again, latching his lips onto his favorite spot on her neck, just below the still angry scar that was inflicted on her a year prior.

"Need you," she whispered.

"Want you."

"Take me."

"But you said – "

"Ronald!"

"Blimey!"

He quickly worked to divest her of her Hogwarts robes while tossing her cardigan and blouse behind him into the locker. Second passed, and that she was left in were her sensible black and orange knickers and gray knee socks.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?" she quipped while he continued to kiss her breasts.

He grinned, giving her the one that she loved – the grin that she got when they had privacy.

She stood up from his lap, watching him frantically drop his trousers and pants into his boots which he neglected to remove. Ron growled when they tangled at his feet.

Hermione knelt down, halting his frantic efforts, and worked to pull the zipper down the side of his regulation boots. She smirked up at him, watching him step out of one then the other, sliding the material off is size 12 feet. She saw him in ginger haired freckled glory and loved it.

Ron sat back down, running his hands down her flanks, taking her modest pants with them down her pale toned legs. She didn't hide anymore, at least from him. The months with the Mind Healer changed her attitude about the scars she earned.

Hermione stepped forward between his splayed knees. The bench was the perfect height, letting him give love and attention to the overlapping scars on her chest, inflicted by Dolohov in the Ministry fight, then the scorch burn on her chest, given by the monster his Mum killed. While he kissed over her scars, his hands teased and toyed with her nipples, bringing her to moans and squeaks.

She stepped closer, feeling his succulent lips close over her hard peaks, his heartbeat on her thighs, and his powerful hands tightly gripping her arse. "Oh G_d yes please!" she whined from his attention.

He pushed her back, bringing his knees together and waited. He watched her watching him, seeing the adoration and love in her eyes along with the mischief and mirth. He grinned up at her, feeling her dainty hands settle onto his Auror trained shoulders before settling onto his lap with a hiss.

"I missed you!" she whispered while her breasts bounced in front of his face. He enjoyed the view and the feel of the supple skin of her arse in his hands.

"That's it, shag me rotten. Give me my birthday present."

She rocked on his legs, grinding her hips faster on him while the noise outside the room rose.

Hermione looked up, realizing what was happening. "Make me scream."

Ron took his hand off her arse and grabbed a breast, shoving it in his mouth while he rocked her harder.

"More," she growled while moving faster over him. He complied, lifting his legs against her, banging into her harder.

"Fuck, Hermione."

"Please, ohG_dplease!"

He let go of her breast, and roughly bit her neck on his second favorite spot. She screamed, and clamped down on him in a vice-like grip. "Hermione!" he bellowed in response, thrusting his hips three times more before sagging back onto the bench.

The stadium above them roared.

"Hermione. Hurry. The match just ended. We've gotta get outta here."

She looked at him, and kissed him once more before frantically leaping off his lap and quickly dressing in her skirt and robes. He chuckled, tossing on his trousers and boots, his t-shirt, jacket and cloak.

One more quick flick of their wands, and they were mostly presentable. Her hair was a lost cause, but she accepted that.

"Go on out – I'll be out in a second."

Ron kissed her quickly then slipped out the locker room door. Hermione watched the door bang before turning back to the other corner of the locker room. She had about two minutes before the Gryffindor Quidditch team came in. She performed the countercharm, and there stood a frozen Cormac McClaggen. She turned him around, looking him in the eye and scowled. "Poor Cormac, you missed all the fun today, trying to spy on me."

"This is what you get for slagging on Ron." She squeezed his frozen erection roughly, giving him a malicious smile. "Pity you aren't half the man he is."

She stepped back and slapped his jaw, unhinging it while frozen. "And that is for stalking Ginny this year while she's dating Harry." Hermione shook her hand, wincing from the pain.

"Now run along and tattle, if you dare – but if you do, your father will know I caught you with a fourth year Slytherin. I'm sure he doesn't know you have a penchant for bullying underage boys, does he?"

She flourished her wand for the last time, and he unfroze. Cormac blanched and ran for the door.

"Pathetic excuse!" she growled as she turned for the door.

She met the headmistress outside, looking at her stoically. "Problems?"

"Sorted, Professor."

"Excellent," she heard as she walked further out onto the grounds to look for Ron.


	5. Stalking Away - Rodolphus & Bellatrix

**Stalking Away - Rodolphus/Bellatrix**

* * *

**_(A/N: This one was a challenge, and many a thanks to my English beta Nel (AKA Nellark, writer of Skin and Lilac Wine) for giving me insight into Bellatrix and who she was before she was capering in the Great Hall blowing out windows and making a mess of things. _**  
_Oh - and It's day 354 and I'm still not JK Rowling and I still don't own HP - and my 14 1/2 Apple Wand is making sparkles today. - DG)_

* * *

Bellatrix stalked from the Infirmary, pointedly ignoring the discussion behind her between Headmaster Dumbledore and her mother, Druella Black. Hearing her mother's diatribe rattled in Bellatrix' ears. She clutched the parchments in her hands, the ones her mother had shoved in her face before launching into her animated castigation of the Headmaster.

Bellatrix didn't care. Her anger at the situation was overruling everything else going on. Her parents might have preached her decorum, propriety and living up to her pureblood heritage, but they weren't innocent either. However, she shouldn't be expected to keep to those antiquated ideals when there were so many fit young pureblood Slytherin men in her house. It's not like she had been a virgin for the last two years or that she wasn't shagging Evan Rosier either.

No, what got her mother's knickers in a twist was the piece of paper that was crumpled in her hand, the one, sent by the school nurse last night, that had announced that she, Bellatrix Black, the oldest of Cygnus Black III and Druella Rosier Black, had been pregnant and had a miscarriage. The nurse had assured Bellatrix that it was known to happen on occasion to healthy witches and that it was actually the baby that wasn't healthy. It was nature's way of dealing with a problem child, she claimed.

Druella Black's admonishment of her daughter, in front of Dumbledore, Slughorn, and the school nurse, was enough to flare Bellatrix' temper and make her walk away from them all. She viciously crushed the wish that one of her sisters was old enough to understand. This was her dilemma and she would deal with it.

But it was the social complications from such – including her mother's insistent accusations at Dumbledore to get Evan Rosier tossed from school for besmirching her daughter's reputation that annoyed her to no end. It's not like she was in love with him. He was good for shagging and no complications.

An arranged marriage to Rodolphus Black would complicate her life completely.

Her mother's comments about having her properly married off immediately haunted her. She shook in frustration, realizing that the consequences for her actions were going to affect her for years to come. The loss of her freedom would be the worst. She was friends with Lestrange, and that had been enough. A marriage with him would be constraining considering his sexual preferences were not discrete.

From reading the letter again, her mother had been relegated to polite discussion only before the decision to marry her off to Lestrange was made. He was the most socially connected pureblood that wasn't already betrothed. Say what you will, but the name of Black – and a considerable dowry – made for a tempting bride in a gilded cage.

She passed the hall leading to the dungeons, catching the eye of Lestrange coming from the common room. She took longer strides, knowing that he would catch her. He was her friend and he was someone she could talk to.

She made the stairs, heading to the corridor where the entrance to the Room of Hidden Things – the one place she could get away from prying eyes for a while and where she could let her guard down – was. She reached the corridor, hearing heavy footfalls behind her that raced up the stairs. He would make it, like he always did.

Bellatrix began to pace the wall, making her list known. She needed the room for a while, to grieve in private before showing her public face once more. _A room of solitude, complete like I would have decorated it. We need a room comfortable for both of us_.

A door appeared and she looked to the side. He stood there panting from running hard to meet her. One look from him and they went inside. She needed time to think and recover.

Her eyes went wide as she found herself in a nursery, complete with a comfortable rocking chair, a setee, and an unvarnished crib off to the side. So many things dotted the room, from the silver rattle on the changing table to the wireless charmed to make music on the crib. A Muggle rocking horse in the corner was the worst to see.

Bellatrix collapsed onto the couch, crumbling into harsh sobs. She felt strong arms pulling her close, giving some comfort. It was bittersweet, hearing the castigation in her head while feeling comfort outside of it.

"His name would have been Aldebaran," she croaked out.

"It's OK. I'm here."

"And you always will be. Has no one told you?"

"No," Rodolphus said strongly.

"Grandmother told Mother that we are to be married once this year is out."

"Preposterous!"

"She said you would be a better husband and keep me in line rather than acting like a harlot and getting pregnant before I was married."

"Don't they know this won't stop you shagging who you want?"

"They obviously don't care. Maybe this is their way of giving you some respectability too."

"Everyone here still knows that I prefer the company of men."

She leaned in closer, finding him arousing this evening. "Did you ever consider bedding me?"

"You? Honestly, no. You're a girl and you're my friend. I don't fuck over friends. Why would I do that to you?"

"You wouldn't," Bellatrix looked up, brown eyes to brown. The situation was far from perfect, but she had no options left. Pragmatisms won over emotional attachment.

"If we're going to be married in a few months, I want to know what my husband is like sexually. It's not like we can divorce once circumstances change."

"But what about Evan? Won't he be upset with you?"

"Mother is trying to get him expelled now. She called him a traitor for getting me pregnant before being married. If she has her way he will be in Azkaban by midnight since my family has social pull."

Rodolphus looked down at her, pushing her well coiffed curls away from her face. "Are you sure about this? You know I enjoy rough shagging. It'll be weird."

"Rodolphus," she purred, "just shut it and fuck me. It's not like I love you or anything."

He leaned in for their first kiss. "With pleasure," he smiled.

* * *

Bellatrix lay on the padded rug in front of the couch in the Room of Hidden Things. Her knickers were torn from her body, her corset shoved down onto her hips, her blouse tossed somewhere in the room, and surprisingly sore from his attention and ministrations. She looked to her right and found Rodolphus already snoring. _Sigh. Typical boys. Took him long enough to pass out. Only took four shags to do it. But blimey, he certainly knows how to use his wand the right way._

She put a hand to her head, feeling her hair. It was a mess. Anyone who saw her would know what had happened. _They can sod off, for all I care._

She worked to adjust her attire, trying to look like she hadn't been shagged rotten into the rug underneath her ample arse. She stood, barely keeping on her feet, and smiled. The soreness was comforting. She didn't care how he came to know such pleasures. Then again, if he could toss her around like a rag doll, using magic to hold off his own climax until she was begging for mercy, then she could appreciate him further. His rough fucking was pleasurable the first time.

Bellatrix looked down at him, thinking this arrange marriage might not be entirely terrible. She wouldn't refuse such pleasures again before they were officially married. She might even share someone with him if she could partake too.

She walked away from her betrothed and opened the door quietly to slip out. She knew it was late and that she might be close to curfew, but that was no matter either. She heard the clock chimes and assumed it was close to midnight. It had been late when they went in earlier.

After turning one corner, she came face to face with the Headmaster and her Mother.

"And pray tell where have you been Bellatrix?"

"Mother. I have been spending company with the young man you deem worthy of my hand in marriage. I had to see if he was worthy of my attentions or my affections."

Druella Rosier Black snarled. "You will marry who we say. Your opinion matters not in this."

Bellatrix frowned back. "That's true, but it doesn't mean I have to give you children from it, now does it?"

Bellatrix turned heel and walked away, smiling at the sneer on her mother's face.


	6. Throwing Biscuits - George&Angelina

**Throwing Biscuits - George/Angelina**

* * *

_A/N: Day 1054 and I'm still not JK Rowling and I still don't own the copyright of Harry Potter. But I did get a tin of Hobnobs today as a treat. - DG_

* * *

"George, get out here!"

Angelina stood tapping her foot in the kitchen, waiting for George to appear. She loved her partner, he was a good provider, a better love, and a hilarious prankster, but he had no head for numbers or how to manage the money they had coming in. Seconds passed and he wasn't obeying her.

"George Fabian Weasley, you get your scrawny arse out here now!"

George walking in, toweling off from his shower. She appreciated those lean hips, those long enough arms, those reasonably large hands, and much more. But now wasn't the time for her to appreciate his form, but to handle business. _Business before pleasure, at least today._

"What are you yelling about, Angie? We don't open the shop for another hour."

"Did you bother to read the notice from Gringotts yesterday? The owl posting that talked about the payment for the shop's rent being due today? Did you even think to pay it when you made the deposit yesterday?"

He blushed, from his ears to his bright nips on his chest.

"So while I was there, paying the rent on the shop and our flat, I asked to see their books on our vault, and we're close to being broke. What the hell George?"

George stood there shocked then realized what was going on. _Bloody hell!_

"Bloody Hell, George, Answer me!"

"No."

"Excuse me? Did you just tell me no about business, the one you built from the ground up with your brother? Do you even give a care about that business that you are Fred dreamt of?"

Angie knew she stepped in it when his face went white, and his eyes took on the look of a dragon – preternaturally fierce, impossibly dark, glowing in anger.

**"You fuckin' leave Fred out of it!"**

Angie took a step back in shock. George rarely raised his voice to her. He would get quiet, or sulk, or ignore her for days, but he rarely yelled.

"But George, - "

George picked up the plate of biscuits, and threw them. The plate shattered on the wall, scattering the chocolate biscuits she picked up yesterday from the bakery. He slung the dishes off of the table, letting his rage dissipate. "Just shut it!"

Angie stepped forward, willing to face his uncharacteristic anger. She hadn't seen him that irrational since they day she walked back into his life – the day after Luna left him for South America and her first adventure, away from him. He was a mess and it took some time for him to come back from the abyss.

"George, talk to me please."

He looked up, blinking back rage from his face, slowly returning to his sedate self. A flush crept up his features, looking at the disaster his unbridled anger unleashed. Two hands sliding into his, still clinched in anger, broke the emotional hold on him.

George stepped forward, bringing her to sit down at their modest table he received from his parents. George sat there a second, looking at his hands and hers, looking at the distinct differences between them: mocha hands, lighter than her face from playing too much Quidditch, specky ginger and white for him. Up her arm was the tattoo, the same one he had, circling the wrist with Fred's full name.

"I'm sick of this place. It's been years, and I want to get out of here."

"Where do you want to go?"

George looked up, finding those obsidian eyes he learned to love, completely opposite to the ocean blues that captivated him two years prior.

"That's why the account is almost empty. I bought us a cottage up in Worchester, away from everyone else – and we're moving in next month."

"And you didn't bother to ask me if I wanted this? You didn't ask me if I wanted to live closer to my family, especially Mum. Why?"

"I need away from here. I'm haunted by both of them and I want to give you everything I need."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted to surprise you next week, on our anniversary."

"Anniversary?"

George frowned, getting up from his seat and going to the cooling cabinet for a bottle of butterbeer. "Obviously it wasn't as important to you as it was to me."

"What are you on about?"

George stood in front of Angelina, who was still sitting in the chair. "Nothing. It's not important. I'll call Gringotts today can see if I can cancel the contract."

"George!"

He turned back around, letting her pull him close to her. She saw the hurt on his face, the pain in his eyes, and was sure that the raw emotion was from what she was missing.

"Talk to me. Why are you so upset today?"

George stood there, working his mouth like he wanted to talk with her, but held back.

"Do I need to loosen your tongue for you to talk to me? Is that what you need? Do I need to make it all better today?"

Angelina ran her hands up and down his slacks, watching his heartbeat tick in time in his trousers. She kept looking up while working the buckle of his belt. She smiled at him when his frown twitched.

"There's the man I love. You just stand there and hold on, and I'll make it a better day."

Angelina turned her attention to the zipper in front of her, pulling it down gently. Watching his physical excitement grow in those seconds told her it wouldn't take long. Once the zipper was down, and she could find him inside, she gently removed his appendage from his pants, finding him more than ready.

Square cut nails worked her way further into the boxers, finding the rest of his bits waiting for her. She didn't need to look up, since he was always amenable to what she was about to do.

A quick lolly-like lick, and she took him in her mouth. His hands fell on her shoulders, supporting himself. He groaned, appreciating her ministrations. She went further, using her hands to tease him quickly to a rousing finish. _Not much longer now._

He moaned, cursing like Ron. He threaded a hand into her braids, and gripped her shoulder hard. He froze before groaning out variations of her name and nearly collapsing in relief.

Angie pulled her wand from her pocket, and summoned the chair for George to collapse into.

She waited, patiently listening to his heavy breathing. Sure enough, he opened his eyes, and looked like George again. "You ready to talk now?"

He nodded, finding the words he couldn't choke out earlier. "It's the anniversary you saved my life."

She sat there, still puzzled at his words. "George, I don't follow you. What are you on about?"

He smiled, flashing the charisma he used in the store. "Two years ago, you convinced me to get help, after Luna left. It wasn't yelling, or thrown biscuits that did it, but the look on your face that made me realize I needed help. You pitied me, and I hated it. That was the day we went to St. Mungo's after I asked for help. You might not think it's important, but I certainly do."

George took a deep breath before sitting up straight in the chair. He leaned forward, taking her hands into his, and squeezing them firmly. "You bet me a weekend's worth of my fantasy if I'd go every other day for a year. You challenged me to do it, saying you'd stay with me as long as I was getting help. I didn't do it. But it's been two years now, and my healer said I can cut back to once a week now from twice a week. I might have lost our bet, but I won in the long run."

Angelina grinned while realizing that George was finally coming out of his shell, years after his life was torn asunder. "You went to the healer because of our Bet?"

"What can I say?" He nodded, smiling again. "I never could refuse pleasure from the weaker sex."

Angelina threw a biscuit back at George, hitting him on the nose. "You wanker!"

His grin was even larger. "Not since you started shagging me! But I am still a tosser."

She leaned in further, capturing his face in her hands. "You are a tosser but you're my tosser. And don't you forget it." She sealed their deal with a searing kiss.


	7. First Loves & Worst - Tom Riddle&Ginny

**First Loves and Worst Nightmares (Tom Riddle/Ginny)**

* * *

_Day 902 and I'm still not JK Rowling. She wouldn't drop a piano on her toe and need medical intervention. She'd know better. - DG)_

* * *

Ginny rolled over, trying to find comfort in her bed. The bedclothes were too warm, constricting and restraining tonight. A tang of blood wafted into her, bringing unexpected comfort. She drifted to sleep.

* * *

_**Ah, Ginny, so nice to see you tonight. I'm glad you came to visit.**_

_Tom. You've been dead years to me. Why tonight, of all times, do you beckon? _

_**Why not tonight, when another man had what I took the first time from you?**_

_But he loves me, and I love him in return. _

_**But I had you first, tasted your tender flesh, heard your screams of agony that brought joy to my life.**_

_But that was then, but why now? Why are you here with me tonight?_

_**Because that boy who had your body never seduced your soul like I did, has he?**_

_No, only you've touched that part of me, understood me entirely._

_**So why shouldn't I come to you tonight, the first night you were truly a woman, and listen to the seductions only I can offer? I, who knows your soul best of all, and feasts on your nightmares, and drinks in your sorrow?**_

_But Harry killed you twice over. Everyone save me had a part in destroying you completely._

_**bBut you never did, did you? You were the one who wanted me to live with you forever. I'm the one you turn to in your best and worst moments, the one who knows you best of all?/b**_p

_That's not true. Hermione and Luna know me best._ p

_**Do they? Have you told them about me, about what happened those cold lonely nights in your bed, behind the curtains at night when you poured out your soul to me in agony? Have you told them those painful first days at school, when your brothers ignored you entirely, your best friends didn't know you existed, and the boy you fawned over didn't acknowledge your presence? Did you tell them that you didn't get a letter from Mummy and Daddy until a month had passed?**_

_Well, no, that was then and not now. I got a letter from Mum the day before term ended, yelling at me for choosing to stay here tonight._

_**Silly little girl. Choosing his body over my soul will never placate you. The day you told me I could crawl into your mind was the best day of your life. No matter how hard you try, no matter how old and wrinkled that boy grows, I'm the one who will grow old with you. I'm in your mind, and I'm never leaving you. That was what you begged for that first week at school. 'Don't leave me Tom!'**_

_Not true Tom. He loves me, and showed me tonight for the first time. The things he did -_

_**He only tasted leftovers. I had your soul and your heart from the first moment we met. Your flesh is nothing to seducing your soul with the pretty words that were easy to give a child.**_

_Bollocks. You took like a predator tearing flesh and bone and blood, taking what you wanted without listening to me._

_**Truth. I saw you at your lowest point, your miserable wallowing worst; loved you when you were pitiful and dirty, and continued to love you when you were sorrowful and shamed. I love you now, when you are lying here with him, chained to the pleasures of the flesh and sensations he gave you. **_

_I was a child then, ignorant of the world and the torments you inflicted upon me._ You never loved me.

_**But here you are, arguing against logic now with me, the first love of your life while lying next to his side, flesh to pitiful flesh. Whom did you think of when you were screaming his name? Certainly not his that rattled around in your mind. No, that was my name that passed your heart to your mind. Only his name passed your lips, flesh made sound.**_

_You took what wasn't yours to give, imprinted on my mind with darkest magic when I was most vulnerable. Years have passed, yet you still cannot give me what I need. You only take what you wanted, never giving in return._

_**Of course I took what I wanted. You offered your soul freely. Your body was a special treat, flesh upon flesh to feast upon as a succulent treat for your screams. Only the bag of flesh next to you interrupted the ultimate taking. Your life for mine would have been a fair trade. A silly little girl for a grown man ready for power to rule further: that would have been a worthy taking./b**_p

_I hate you. It's been years and I still loathe you._

_**Yet your eyes still look for me in shadows and under the masquerade of humanity that you surround yourself with. The ones who stimulate you now, making that weak heart in your chest thump just a touch faster, don't compare to the seductive words I still whisper in your ear. That boy beside you, indulgent in skin and sweat and stink of sex, do nothing that I cannot make happen first. His kisses only remind you of what I had first. You didn't need more, only my seductive yet empty promises.**_

_You used me then tossed me away when Harry showed interest, only crawling back to my side when he threw you away like the bastard you are._

_**Silly girl, of course I used you. I never loved you, only took your flesh for my own, breaking you for my own needs, using you for my own quest for power. Years past, and I still can make you quiver in desire just with the thought of me whispering in your ear. **_

_Liar!_

_**Am I now? Run your hands down your body and feel how tight your nipples are. Let your hands travel further and see how my words rend your flesh wanting. Time passes, and yet you still crave the flesh I never gave you, only taking blood for my own needs to grow powerful. Just the thought of a small touch upon innocent flesh drive you mad with desire.**_

_Liar! I hate you!_

_**Of course you hate me. You can only hate which you loved first. You loved me before you knew what love was, before the twit next to you fondled your skin. Love is pain, heartache, breaking and anguish. You crave me, flesh to flesh.**_

_Get out! Get out of my mind you bastard!_

_**I never will. You brought me in here, swaddled in comfort and innocence, and we shall grow old together, one mind, one flesh, one heart, as long as they all function. The scars I left on you, the ones that no one else will ever see, are mine to cherish as long as I am here. You are mine, Ginny Weasley, for eternity. The twat next to you is nothing compared to what you lost the first time. **_

_You forget yourself, Tom. Anything's possible if you have enough nerve. My brothers taught me that, and I learned that out there where you never lived. I'm not the child you corrupted those years ago. I'm blooded, tempered in Fire, fearless now that I know I am loved, and I will be damned if you stay in my head evermore. You tried to kill him thrice over, and yet his flesh still resides, beating fire and giving rise to the flesh that I crave. You scorned flesh for immortality and corruption, losing the one thing that I crave most of all: a beating heart. _

_**I had yours, before that boy saved you.**_

_That man has one thing that you never considered – courage made flesh. Any fool can kill. A real man is willing to die for his friends to protect them. You couldn't kill him, and yet he's here now, skin to skin with me, feasting on my flesh while you pine away in my soul. There is nothing you can give me, except lust and empty promises. Lust I have; love I need. I don't need you. _

_**You can't kill me. **_

_Maybe so, but I can rend you impotent like the fiend you are. You corrupted me, but also made me the powerful witch I am now. I'm not the child you first tarnished. I'm the witch who is casting you aside, to be forgotten once and for all. _

_**You'll never forget me. You'd miss me.**_

_Oh really? Then watch me put a fang through your presence for the last time. Goodbye Tom._

* * *

Ginny rolled over, feeling the hairs on Harry's chest tickle her fingers. She knew he wasn't truly asleep, but waiting for her to speak to him.

A peck on his chapped lips, and a smile for her in the darkness greeted her with love and adoration.

"Harry, there's something I need to tell you."

_**No, **_hissed the voice inside her head.

**Good riddance, Tom.**


	8. Enticement - Ron&Hermione

**Enticement - Ron/Hermione**

* * *

Ron stood at the door, waiting to get into the ramshackle warehouse on the East side of London. It was late on a Friday night and Hermione asked him to meet her here, at a Muggle club, since he worked the late shift at the Auror desk. He didn't mind that she wanted a night out on with him. She rarely ventured from their residence during the week, since she worked like a house elf during the day and spent the remainder of her time studying. But she asked him, and here he was.

The doorman looked Ron up and down, nodding in approval. Ron had on his dragon skin jacket, charmed to look like black calfskin, black trousers from his work uniform, and a white button down dress shirt with tie casually worn. Throw in his regulation haircut and he looked fit.

"You fit the code. Go on in," growled the burly doorman.

Ron nodded, and slipped inside the club. It was nothing like he had been in before. The bar was on the main floor, lining the whole wall, bottles on the shelves behind the keep. It was also strange, since he could watch the patrons on the dance floor below. The grating for the floor was hard on the feet, almost like a metal catwalk.

He saddled up to the bar, looking over the various Muggle beverages that Dr. Granger taught him in the last year. He had tried various things, some nasty and some outstanding. But since Hermione was being cryptic, he might need his wits.

"Double Glenfidditch, neat" yelled Ron to the keep. The noise of the club made it hard to hear. The barman nodded in understanding. While waiting, he listened to the cacophony of the club, drenched in pulsing light and beat.

_Good thing Dr. Granger taught me Muggle alcohol. She's down there somewhere, waiting for me, maybe sees me already. I want her too._

The keep returned with his old fashioned glass, and Ron took a sip. He cringed at the taste, but it was harsh enough for what he wanted – to find Hermione in the throng of humanity on the floor below. He finished the drink before setting out to find his girlfriend on the floor below. Social lubricants were necessary for these occasions.

From the second floor vantage point, he tried to spy her on the floor, hidden among the throng of writing bodies below him. He couldn't see. He ascended, noting the lack of exits in the building. He walked down, wishing he was deaf from the music blaring in the basement. But somewhere out there, she was dancing.

It had been months since she had time out of her hectic schedule to come out to a pub or club. She told him one night after they shagged that she missed going out dancing. It wasn't that Ron didn't like to dance – he was middling when he was surrounded and could move without looking like a tosser – but being in crowds and loud noises bothered him since the war ended. He endured the discomfort, just to please her. _She's worth it all, my best friend and lover. _

A glint of white in the throngs of color, framed in brown caught his eye. She was in the middle, in the sea of gyrating bodies, looking wanton and salacious. The alcohol coursed through his system, helping him feel primal. But he wanted to wait, to spy and stalk her. Let her watch him watching her.

Hermione turned again, catching his eye yet again. Those brown eyes burned, fueled by sweet tasting alcohol. She taunted him with her actions. She smiled – and his pants grew snug. She tossed her hair – his trousers became uncomfortable. She flicked her tongue – just like how she did when she licked his head of cum before taking him in her mouth – and the pain started.

_Fuck me sideways! _

He threaded his way through the crowd while being jostled by the crush on the dance floor. Those brown eyes were magnetic, drawing him to her. But her smile was electric; she could light up the room with her perfect teeth. But that tongue of hers, enticing him further to her, was more than he could stand. p

_Time to play._

"Hey, are you my date for the night?" he yelled over the heavy bass beat seconds before it stopped.

Hermione looked Ron up and down, nodding in approval at his evening attire. "Maybe. You look like what my girlfriend said my date looked like. She said he'd be tall, ginger, and dressed to kill. You certainly do fit the package." She ran a hand down the front of his trousers. "You certainly do fit in the package too."

Ron reached out, running a long finger down her bare arm, finding the skin burning up and drenched in her perspiration. "Been waiting long?"

"Long enough."

The music started again, this time a remix of an old British band's dance hit. Ron started bouncing, shuffling his feet, trying to act like he was dancing. He looked down at Hermione in front of him, seeing the mirth in her melted chocolate eyes.

Hermione turned around, nestling her arse on him, making him lose his mind in temptation. He ran his hands down her slim arms, feeling the heat, and settled his massive hands on her hips, bringing them in contact with his black trousers. She thrust her hips back, teasing him with her bum on his aching cock. Ron pulled her tighter, grinding his erection into her arse. He leaned down, bending along her neck, finding the spot at the base of her neck where he loved to mark her. One nibble and she moved her hands up, threading her hands into his hair, pulling gently.

"Wanna fuck you so bad!" he growled in her ear.

Hermione turned her head, letting him capture her lips in a desperate kiss. The kiss promised so much more if he continued to play along. He needed her to hurry.

She pulled him back looking deep in his ocean blue eyes. One small nod, and they were threading their way through the crowds, trying to find somewhere in the basement of the decrepit building that had a modest amount of privacy. As adventurous as she was, even she wouldn't shag in public. He tried to no avail many times before.

She stopped them at the wall next to a cleaning closet, pulling him down with a kiss. "She tells me that you're the most fantastic lover ever. Care to prove it?"

He smiled like a troll, and shoved her into the broom cupboard between the two bathrooms. He waved his concealed wand over the closet, not doing much good on the conditions in it. Hermione smiled, then pulled her wand from between her breasts, and did the same incantation silently. The room sparkled from her magic.

"Blimey!"

"Shut it!"

Ron peeled off is coat, hanging it on the door, before pressing her into the other wall. "Need you," he growled into her neck, running his hands down her back to her arse, pulling the hemline up to those soft cheeks he loved. Her arse was the first thing he found that fit his hands, and he loved them immensely.

"Cheeky witch!"

She pulled his head down, letting passion flow through her lips while she worked the buckle on his belt.

Delicate yet dexterous fingers quietly divested him of his trousers and pants, freeing his manhood from their confines. Her soft hands worked him gently, abating the ache from waiting to nestle it inside his girlfriend.

She looked up at him, growling in his ear, "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

He looked at her, and with the small nod from her, he lifted her high on the wall and thrust to the hilt.

"Ron," she screamed, drowned out from the music of the club as he pounded her into the wall, feeling her hands pulling on the back of his dress shirt.

He found his second favorite spot, the one on her neck, and gently bit into the tender flesh. She screamed again, squeezing his cock to painful constriction, and he roared in climax with her.

Heartbeats thumped in time to the music in the club, bringing them down from the rafters. He gently lowered her to the ground, keeping his face next to her.

Hermione looked up and saw Ron was coated in sweat, still clutching her bum in his large hands.

"Periwinkle," Hermione breathed in his ear.

The game ended with their safe word. "Blimey, love, that was fun! We'll have to do that again."

She was still heaving in deep breaths. "Yes, but not tonight. Take me home. My feet are killing me."


	9. Laughter - Ron&Hermione

**Laughter - Ron/Hermione**

* * *

**A/N: No, still not JK Rowling - and I certainly won't let Ron tickle my fancy either. I don't want to answer to his wife. - DG**

* * *

Ron lifted back the duvet on his bed. He was still amazed that it was his bed, not the one that he had at his family home. This one was a king sized bed and spacious in comparison to the camp bed they spent months on. But what made it better was the bushy haired witch that was already in it. It was an added bonus that she was only clothed in a camisole and a set of navy colored knickers.

"Budge over."

Hermione giggled while giving him that smile she saved for him.

"Did you just giggle for me?"

"What if I did? What are you going to do about it?"

Ron bounced into the bed, finding the one spot he knew of that was sure to make her squeal like a girl. He shoved his long fingers through her flailing arms, finding the spots in the middle of her back that were close to working normally.

"Stop! That tickles!"

"You need to laugh. You've not laughed in weeks."

She squirmed under his ministrations, trying to wiggle away from his indelicate touch. Her cackle bounced around the room.

"Have so."

"Have not!"

Ron continued his assault, pulling her closer while he moved to the next spot, the dimples on the tops of her thin hips.

"Oh please, not there! Ron!" she squealed while trying to wiggle away from him.

"Say it and I'll stop."

"Weasley is my King!" she bellowed while he finished his assault.

"And don't you forget it!"

Hermione laughed again. Ron would never admit it, but it was better than his chanting her name during an orgasm. Her laugh was a balm for his war-torn soul.

He blinked, and watched her eyes turn from mirth to lust in an instant. She smiled again before attacking his lips.

"Hermione?"

"Shut it and shag me!" she growled into his ear.

* * *

Ron collapsed into the crumpled sheets of the bed. He was spent after the last hour.

"What got into you? One minute you're laughing and the next you're riding me like it's our last day on earth. What gives?"

"You were laughing and it sounded dead sexy. I couldn't resist."

"Oh so that is what it was? I laughed with you and tickled your fancy?"

Hermione grinned over at her lover and best friend. "Well, sure. You get me to laugh and after everything we've gone through, it's a great feeling."

"You weren't laughing earlier when I – "

"Ronald!"

He chortled and she giggled right alongside him.


	10. A Bad day at Quidditch - Hinny

**A Bad day on the Quidditch Pitch - Harry/Ginny**

* * *

**A/N: This one is way outside my comfort zone, for writing among other things. It was prompted, but still uncomfortable in a challenging way. **  
_A/N2: Still not JK Rowling and I certainly don't own a Professional grade broom to fly around on. Only brooms I have are cleansweep '74s. - DG_

* * *

Ginny touched down on the rain soaked grass, flopping onto her back. Gwenog was harsh, working them for hours for losing to Chudley yesterday. Sunday practices are bad, but worse after losing to the Canons. Only Ginny was left, paying extra for her mistakes.

_Merlin, you'd never thought I'd rode a broom before. I need to get my arse in gear or quit now._

"Weasley! In my office now!"

Ginny slogged through the muddy pitch to get to her office, right inside the doors. With her broom in tow, she stood waiting to be acknowledged.

Gwenog looked up scowling. Years of Quidditch did nothing for her features off the pitch.

"I don't know what the fuck you're doing up there, but get your arse in gear. We've got the match with Exmoor this weekend and I won't have my second chaser making bollocks of the playbook. It's bad enough you dropped the Quaffle three times against Chudley and they don't know what the hell they are doing. Get your act together by tomorrow or you're benched for Saturday." Gwenog scowled further. "Go get drunk, shagged, I don't give a shite what. Just get your arse in here at half six and show me you give a fuck. Now get out of here!"

Ginny trudged from the office, not even bothering to peel out of her uniform or cloak. Fury rolled off of her in raw magical waves. She grabbed her bag, her broom, and stalked out of the changing room for the apparition point, and home to Harry.

_Harry the Hero, trying to kill himself out in the field, didn't bother to tell me he got hurt on the last mission. Selfish wanker!_

Her row with Harry this morning screwed with her head. She didn't want to admit it to anyone.

Ginny stepped inside their home, and put the broom in the front closet. She stole a glance in the hallway mirror, seeing the streaks of mud on her face, the blood on her hands, and the way her uniform stunk of sweat and rain. _Merlin, I look a mess today._

"'Bout time you got back home. Merlin, why are you late?" Harry stood at the doorway to the parlor, looking a menace. His denims hung low on his hips, and his white t-shirt hugged his lean torso. "Answer me, Ginny. Where the hell have you been?"

Ginny stalked past her fiancé, furious at him for continuing the row from this morning into this afternoon. "Fuck off, Potter. I've had a shite of a day, no thanks to you. I'm getting a shower to get this mess off of me, and I'll deal with you afterwards."

Harry grabbed her arm, spinning her into the wall next to the bannister. "Don't walk away from me. I'm not finished talking with you."

Ginny looked up at him, snarling at his presumptuousness. "Arrogant bastard. I said fuck off."

Harry gripped her upper arm harder, thrusting her back into the sheetrock of the wall behind her back. He threaded his hand into her hair, pulling it back so he looked at her face. "What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"What's wrong with me? You are! You go out on a mission, get hurt, get treated then don't bother to tell me you got hurt. I had to hear it from Hermione last night before you came home at 5am. But you sure don't give a shite what I think about it. Only thing you care about is being the hero to the team. Now, for the last time, fuck off."

Ginny tried to step out from Harry's presence, and instead was shoved back into the wall yet again. Harry pushed his knee in between her legs, pulling her head back to look up at him. He didn't see her balled up fist, only the dilation of her eyes at him and the flush upon her face.

"Bloody rude burke – " was all she could muster before his lips crashed down on hers. He seared her with that kiss.

His calloused hands in her hair pulled on the roots, driving fire further through her skin. His knee on the seam of her uniform was delicious, pushing her further in anger filled lust. She lost her anger, feeling his chapped lips rending on her neck, biting harder than during their usual languid foreplay. His hands ripped her jersey and undershirt from her trousers, thrusting his cold hands up under the fabric of skin tight sport bra.

"Arrogant arse!"

_Bloody Hell,_ she thought while getting mauled on her neck and her breasts groped. She arched her back, bringing one leg around his hip, dragging the toe of her boot higher. While he pawed her chest, she worked the buckle on his denims, shoving her bloodied hands into his pants, finding him ready for her. "Days like this make me hate you, Potter!"

She took him in her hands, none too gentle, and aggressively worked him. He pulled back, piercing her with those dark green eyes. "You hate me?"

Ginny shoved him hard, making him bounce off of the opposite wall before pouncing on him once again. She tore at his shirt, ripping it over his head before attacking his chest, biting lightly and gouging with her barely-there nails down his chest and abdomen. He growled from the sting. She went back to his trousers, shoving them down along with his pants. His impressive erection stood at attention for her, awaiting further attention. He stepped out of the clothes pooled on the floor.

Ginny sunk to her knees, dragging her nails down his abdomen to his member, taking him in hand while snarling up at him. "Only for now, Potter! I owe you for ignoring me last night and annoying me today! This is what you get for questioning me. You can fuck me later, but now I want you."

She shoved him into her mouth, tasting him first: salty and bitter. She took him in, savoring the moans he gave. She went as far as possible, using her hands as well, stroking him and massaging his bits.

Harry leaned back, moaning from her attention, feeling her teeth scrape him a touch more rough than usual. His hand went on her scalp, pulling her closer.

He felt the tightening in his bollocks way too soon for his pleasure.

"No you don't, witch!" he bellowed, pulling her off of him and lifting her by the arms. She glared, and was shoved back into the opposite wall, landing on the first stair. Harry pounced on her, flipping her around and yanking down her gold trousers and sensible knickers with them.

She stumbled on the first step, feeling the cold wood under her sensitive breasts before he slapped her arse twice, leaving some sting there too. He rubbed his hand down her slit, finding her more than ready for him. "You never cease to amaze me. You hate me, but you're turned on by all of this."

Harry shoved her harder onto the stairs, bruising her knees on the steps while he yanked her skin snug Quidditch trousers further down, tangling into her uniform boots. The wood ends of the stairs bit into her nipples while he spread her out further, shoving her harder than normal.

"Gah! Just shut it and fuck me! Quit talking and do it!"

She felt the head of his member a second before he plunged into her completely.

"Merlin, about time you did that Potter. Shite! Needed that today."

Harry pounded her from behind, each thrust throwing her further into the stairs in front of her.

"Oh come on Harry! Quit holding back. You know what I need!"

His knee hit the step next to her hand and he pulled her hair, straining her neck. "Is that all you got, Potter? Quit holding back you wanker!"

Harry growled, letting go of his hand on the step. He stopped mid thrust, and shifted. He wrenched from her and hauled her up to shove her into the wall. One fierce look by her, and he was nailing her again.

"Blimey Harry, I said quit holding back. Make me scream!"

Harry's face darkened, and wrenched his hand from the wall behind her, and put it on her throat, barely there. "Is this what you want, witch, begging for me to take your breath away?"

Warm cinnamon eyes glowed under her half-lidded eyes. "Yes!" she croaked.

Within seconds, she felt it, a tsunami washing over her in torrent. "Harry!" she screamed, squalling into the rafters of the old brownstone. Harry followed seconds later.

Harry took his hand from her throat, settling back away from his wife. His panting eventually slowed.

"Ginny, what got into you today?"

"You just did – but I had a bad day at Quidditch."

"Better?"

"Completely. Let's just hope I can fly tomorrow."


	11. Socks - Ron&Hermione

**Socks - Romione**

* * *

_A/N: Still not JK Rowling and better Hermione go through Ron's drawers than the rest of us. That would be burglary. - DG_

* * *

Ron stepped into his flat after a long Sunday at work. The calls into the office this evening were normal, yet still tedious and tiring. It also didn't help that he went by the shop and helped George do inventory after closing. He couldn't refuse George when he wanted to stroll down to the Leaky Cauldron for a pint after they finished.

He knew Hermione wouldn't mind. She encouraged him to spend time with George, who was slowly coming out of his fog after the war among other things. He didn't like spending time away from his new bride and best friend. Say what you will, but he missed her on the occasional Sunday he was away from her.

The table had dinner under a warming charm – a platter of chicken legs – along with a plate for him. The green beans looked tasty along with the roasted parsnips and loaf of bread, courtesy of Mum. What caught his eye were the candles strewn around. Fifteen year old Ron would have said food, ignoring the candles. Candles meant one thing to the 22 year old Auror: Sex. _Fuck yeah, it's been four days._

He toed off his boots, throwing his cloak over the chair, and dropped his jacket on the floor. She'd fuss later about the mess, but round two was always good for her.

He walked to the bedroom door and peeked in. _This is my lucky night._ There was his wife of six months sitting on the floor of the bedroom in a pair of knickers and a smile. He watched for a second while she dithered in his socks drawer, picking up each one and checking it. Two piles sat next to her.

"Hello Love."

She sprung up from the ground, flinging herself into his awaiting embrace. Feverish kisses ensued.

Ron pulled back grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Any reason you were sitting on the ground in your knickers pawing through the drawers? What are you, a perv or something?"

"I got tired of waiting, so I said I'd clean out the drawers before you got home. You need more socks."

Ron chuckled before attacking her lips yet again. "Socks, huh? I'll get right on it."

"Later," she moaned when he caressed her breasts while she worked the buckle on his belt.

"But you were the one cleaning out my drawers."

"And now you need to get out of those pants."

"I'll get right on it."

The couple fell onto the bed, promptly forgetting about socks.


	12. Book - Hermione&Ginny

**Book - Hermione/Ginny (within references to Romione and Hinny)**

* * *

**A/N: Still not JK Rowling 'cause if I was, I'd have a publisher on speed dial and live in Edinburgh. Alas, the only scottish thing I have is amber liquid. -DG**

* * *

Ginny hated going book shopping with Hermione. She hated it as much as cooking a holiday meal with Mum now. But since the guys were out on a mission and not slated to be back for another week, she needed to get out of the house. Quidditch shopping was fun, and Hermione indulged her, but this was torture. Stacks of books all over the room, and none of them moved.

"Why did you drag me out here to a Bicester book shop? Why couldn't we shop in London?"

"I'm shopping."

"Obviously."

"And I'm picking up something I ordered."

"And you couldn't get it at Flourish and Blotts on Diagon Alley?"

"Hardly," Hermione blushed. "They wouldn't carry this book there," she whispered.

"What are you on about? Is this something to do with my troll called a brother?"

Hermione nodded. "I had an idea, and I wanted to research it, but not at the library."

"You, avoiding a library? Are you barmy?"

"You won't think so when you see what the book is."

"Ms. Granger, here is the book you ordered. That will be ten pounds."

Hermione handed over the paper bills and received the brown sack with the bookseller's name on it. She pulled the book from the paper and verified the purchase inside. "Now we can go."

They walked around the corner to the cafe and sat down at the patio table. Hermione pulled the sack from the ground next to her feet and handed it over to Ginny. "Read and when you get to a stopping point, let me know."

Ginny took the book, and started reading. She missed the waitress who took their order and missed her the second time when she brought lunch and tea. Hermione didn't mind – she enjoyed these times when Ginny wasn't talking more than Ron did.

Ginny finally tore her eyes from the book, smiling like she won the Quidditch World Cup. "What kind of research?"

"Page 127 will be a good starting point."

Ginny flipped through the pages to that particular one. Her eyes went wide as Dobby did. "Not that I really want to know about my Brother or anything that you do, but is that even possible with him? Is he that gifted?"

Hermione grinned.

"Forget I ask." Ginny looked closer at the text and blushed. "Harry's did that once," she whispered "I loved it. Made me scream so hard I passed out. I love getting shagged that way."

"That's why I'm interested. I want to scream like that."

Ginny smiled over her tea. "So when can I borrow this?"

"Whenever. I doubt this book will get dusty or rusty in this family."


	13. Alive - Ron&Hermione

**Alive - Romione **

* * *

**A/N: Still not the author, and I've worked through too many lunches without this happening. I'm sure I'll work through far more in my life. -DG**

* * *

Hermione stood over her desk, feeling the sting on her cheeks. No one else understood her need to feel – whether from the flick of his tongue, the callouses on his hands, or even the bite of his teeth on her nipples – only her husband, her best friend, knew her craving to feel anything.

The consequences of her actions those long years past now left her nerves damaged. Her cold hands and feet were the most obvious. She could do something about that, whether gloves or warming charms, or a hot body next to her in bed. But the sting on her arse, bent over the desk before they went home, was entirely different. The flesh was willing today.

Her husband knew that she needed to feel, and understood her fear of numbness. She felt the numbness for months after her time at the Manor. The mental numbness, the reaction to the horrors around her, was her way to cope with the scale of atrocity. A year of healing barely quelled the fear.

The callouses on his hands, working on both sets of her lips, yanking her hair on her scalp, was her punishment, her reward, for working through lunch today. He castigated her for skipping lunch yet again to finish the proposal that wasn't due for a week.

_You have to take care of yourself. The healers told you so._

His words echoed in her mind while his large hand cracked across her cheeks.

_So do something about it if you're mad enough,_ she cheeked back.

She smiled through the pain. Pain and pleasure were interconnected in her brain, another side effect of being tortured. That's why she was wearing the black lace knickers and suspenders to the hosiery she wasn't fond of. That's why she worked through lunch – she missed him and wanted rough foreplay. If she was lucky, he'd bend her over the desk and take her like she desired.

"You intended this, didn't you? That's why you're wearing my favorite, isn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione moaned through the caress on her bum.

"Tell me what you need and you'll have it."

"You know!"

"Tell me!" Another sting on her arse forced her decision.

"Fuck me," she whispered.

Hermione heard a chuckle, followed by a zipper. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Her hips bumped the desk, feeling every inch of him. "No, but you are. Missed you."

Her hips bumped the desk again, harder this time. Bruises would come tomorrow.

"What do you need?"

"Make me scream," she groaned, "remind me I'm alive."

"With pleasure," he growled in her ear.


	14. Celebration - Charlie

**Celebration - Charlie/Mystery Woman**

* * *

**A/N: Still not the Queen of Edinburgh - JK Rowling - but I'd love to share a pint with Charlie in a pub. - DG**

* * *

Charlie sat in the corner of the pub watching the wenches come and go. He had been home a week and his reputation had spread far and wide. Maybe it was the changing tide. Maybe it was that Wizarding England was celebrating the death of Voldemort. Maybe it was that people wanted to remember that they were alive.

He tossed back the next shot of Ogden's wondering which bird he would go home with; it really didn't matter – as long as they had tits and an ass he could squeeze, he would be fine.

Then she walked in and the rest of the patrons fell away.

_Blimey! Tits and hips that know how to ride a stick. Take my galleons and I'll call it a deal._

Dark eyes caught his and she walked over.

"Budge over!"

"Gladly!" he said over the raucous noise in the pub. He handed over one of the other shot glasses and poured her a measure. She downed it and he poured another. She pounded that as well.

"Hey, slow it down. We've got all night."

"Nope, not really. I expect to be arrested tomorrow morning."

"Bloody hell! Why!"

"Doesn't matter," she said quietly. "Before the night is over, I wanna do bad things with you."

She took the bottle and poured a third shot, waiting on him to pour one also. Blue eyes met brown and they threw back the matching shots. p

Charlie threw back up his hand, waving to the keep for a room key. It plopped on the table in an instant.

"You sure you want this?"

"You're Charlie Weasley. I know enough that you'll shag anything that walks."

"I'm not that indiscriminate, but close enough."

"So take me upstairs and fuck me silly."

"Before I do, what's your name?"

She smiled, one where it never reached her eyes. "You can call me Laurel."

"Laurel it is."

They left hand in hand for the room upstairs, intending to make a night of memories that she wouldn't forget for the next five years.

Once inside the door to the room, he threw her against the wall, snogging her like her former lover would never do. Strong arms scarred by dragon's fire were a wonderful difference compared to the soft hands that barely touched her. Full lips, full of talent and no promises were a welcome respite to the broken promises and decadent lies she tossed aside. Rough fucking that left her breathless when her breath had never been taken away.

Worn out, stretched out, and snoring like a dragon, she left Charlie a hasty note on parchment on the pillow. He gave her what she needed before she could deign to allow the arrest. She had much to answer for and no remorse to be given for it.


	15. Celebration, continued

**Celebration, continued (Charlie/Mystery woman revealed)**

* * *

**A/N: The closest I've come to JK Rowling (or Robert Galbraith for that matter) was seeing their books at Wal-Mart this weekend. - DG**

* * *

Charlie sat at the bar drinking his ale. Conflicts rolled around in his head like firecrabs wrestling for a mate. The mysterious woman he'd shagged two nights before enthralled him. She'd been soft in the right places, extremely enthusiastic when he had her on the rumpled bedclothes of his bed and, yet, she'd been gone by the time he'd awoke the next morning. All that remained of her was a note, in delicate script, thanking him for such a fun night.

She wasn't normally his type, but this one was amazing. Her aggression was such a turn-on.

Another pint was put down in front of him by the barkeep. "What's that? I'm not done with the first one."

"The lady at the end of the bar told me that ale's better than roses."

Charlie leaned forward and saw the mystery woman sitting at the end looking at him with fire in her eyes. He hoisted the tankard upwards for her. She responded by lifting her glass of Firewhiskey for him.

"I'll need a room key."

The barkeep handed over a key.

Charlie walked to the end where she was sitting on a stool. Her hair was perfect and her frock immaculate. She looked fuckably fit. "Hey," he said, quietly.

She looked him up and down wantonly.

He picked up on something in her demeanor. "That bad?"

She nodded.

"Join me upstairs?"

She stood up, barely reaching his lips in her heels. "Sounds lovely."

Charlie left his tankard and they went to an upstairs room. The door closed quietly before she pinned him to the door, snogging him passionately.

"Should I get you roses?" Charlie whispered in her ear while she kissed his neck.

"Sod the roses, shag me to forget."

Charlie pulled her back for a second and saw the grief raging on her face. "Spouse, lover, or mother?"

"Parents and lover."

Charlie pulled her closer, pushing the robes down to find her in lingerie. They went quickly, too.

She pulled him to the bed and worked on the belt following his denims and pants.

"Are you – "

"Doesn't matter, does it? Shut it and shag me."

He leered salaciously before pouncing on her, pinning her arms to the headboard with one scarred hand. He found her nipples, alternating between gentle nibbles and licks.

"Quit teasing me you sod. You know what I need."

He pulled up from her chest and gave her a look. "I will, on one condition. What's your name?"

"Pansy Parkinson."

He laid a soft kiss on her stomach.

"Doesn't that revolt you?"

"Why? Should I know that name?"

Tears fell down her face while he pressed kisses further down her body. "So fucking good," she groaned under his attention. Her orgasm minutes later didn't rival the affection she felt for this Weasley.


	16. Chocolate Cake - Ron & Hermione

**Chocolate Cake - Romione**

* * *

_A/N: I'd lay down some pounds to pour tea for JK Rowling. Then again, she might not like my tea. -DG_

* * *

Hermione watched Ron tuck into his Mum's cooking. They were only three days back from Australia and he was eating like he hadn't had a meal in a month. Then again, seeing Ron standing before her an hour prior in nothing but his skin reminded her of what the year on the run did for them.

He looked over at her plate that was barely touched. The vegetables were gone and so was the fresh bread, but the slices of roasted ham stayed on her plate. The smell of roasted meat still made her nauseous. Sure enough, Ron speared one of the chunks onto his plate, tearing into the succulent ham also.

"Ronnie, slow down, you'll give yourself indigestion."

Hermione looked over at Mrs. Weasley and her admonishment. She knew what was coming next. "But Mum, I'm starving! Hermione barely fed me since we got back."

"That's not true!"

His fork clattered on the plate while he was sucking the juices off of his fingers. Hermione watched him, remembering this one innocent action that wasn't innocent with them. He then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, eliciting a small groan from her. He did that about two hours ago, too.

He picked up his spoon and finished off the creamed potatoes, including licking some off of his delectable lips. Hermione squeezed her thighs together while trying to keep down the ardor she was feeling from his eating habits.

"How about dessert?"

"Merlin, yes, please!"

She looked up and hoped that Molly was bringing something that would distract her from thinking about Ron and how enthusiastic he was when he went down on her.

Molly returned to the room with a huge chocolate cake. "Hermione, you should learn now that a way to a Weasley's heart is through his stomach."

Hermione watched with a huge grin as Ron took his plate with a quarter of the cake on it and devoured half of it in the first bite. He was sloppy, but also voracious. She flushed thinking about how he had the same desire for her breasts.

A chuckle broke her reverie. Arthur was laughing. "If you want a piece, we'll cut one for you. I'm sure Ron would share a small sliver."

Molly reached over and handed her a long thin wedge of cake.

She grabbed her spoon and dug a small corner off of the back of it, finding it mostly icing. _Perfect. _She turned it over and enjoyed it like a lolly. Sure enough, that caught his attention. He watched, his eyes turning darker by the second, as she sucked the chocolate off of her spoon.

Ron always loved it when she did that for him, much like the spoon.


	17. Confessions - Luna&Dean

**Confessions - Luna & Dean (with a off-page dose of Ginny/Harry and Ron/Hermione)**

* * *

**A/N: So my friend met Evanna Lynch and said that she's the same on film and in real life. Blurred lines that JK Rowling probably doesn't mind in the least. Suffice to say, I'm not either one of those lovely ladies. - DG**

* * *

Luna strolled into the Hermione's suite and found the occupants of the room lounging on the couch while studying. "Evening ladies," she said quietly.

Ginny waved while Hermione ignored her. "That was fast."

"I was most accommodating for Dean's request for us to shag quickly. He didn't want the other boys in the room to hear me moaning in pleasure."

Ginny laughed while Hermione kept her nose in her Arithmancy book. "Quick, huh? I thought most guys our age didn't know how to take their time."

Luna looked off into the distance with a wisp of a smile on her face. "Oh, I don't know about that. After the first orgasm he has, he can usually last a good hour after that before he bellows again."

"I didn't need to know that, Luna," Hermione said quietly.

"Sorry Hermione, but I would think Ronald would be accommodating for your needs also. I enjoy sex, fast or slow, hard or soft. I find not walking well afterwards is rewarding as well."

Ginny smirked. "Oh, Hermione has that problem occasionally too."

Hermione looked up from her desk to glare at Ginny. "So shall I tell Luna about that time during Christmas holiday when I walked into the kitchen and Harry had you pinned face down to the table? Or about the time I opened the downstairs loo to wash my hands and you were on the counter while Harry was down on you?"

Ginny grinned at her best friends. "Well, I admit I had quite a bit of fun at Christmas."

"I'm surprised Molly didn't drag you out of Harry's house yelling since you stayed in his rooms three days."

"She probably would have had she known about that third night. I broke Harry's promise to Dad that night."

"I knew you had," Hermione said quietly. "You went in and didn't come out until morning. The look on your face was painfully obvious."

Hermione looked over at Luna. "You've been quiet. What gives?"

"Oh. I was thinking about my friends having sex. It's quite stimulating. I might have to use those images later tonight when I go shag Dean again in my bed."

Ginny gasped. "Again?"

"Why yes. You should know how satisfying Dean is when it comes to pleasure."

Ginny blanched. "I actually don't. I didn't shag him. I waited on Harry."

"But didn't you tell me you gave him a knob job?"

"It was a blow job and I did that as a birthday present."

"Oh. He said you rode his broomstick. That wasn't very nice of him."

"Silly sod. I told him he could tell others that if they gave him grief about wanting to wait."

"You mean I'm his first?"

"It looks that way."

Luna got up from her chair. "In that case, I'll enjoy him that much more."

Luna left leaving Ginny and Hermione chuckling.

"She has no shame," Hermione quipped.

"You're as bad as she is," Ginny sassed.

"So are you."

The girls laughed.


End file.
